


hell hath no fury

by ura_nium



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Batman 55, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick gets shot, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 09:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ura_nium/pseuds/ura_nium
Summary: (SPOILER ALERT)The immediate aftermath of Dick getting shot in Batman #55.





	1. between fathers and sons

It was like he was 10, all over again.

He couldn't do anything but watch as his eldest son crumpled onto the hard floor of the rooftop. He moved immediately, automatically, to catch the young man, but at the back of his mind, he just knew that he was too late.

"No!" The word slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Then it was over, Nightwing, no, Dick was a deadweight in his arms, a limp corpse that just added itself to the body count already on his head.

No, he will not stand for this. Not again. No one was dying today. Not if he could help it.

He could hear Commissioner Gordon barking into his phone, calling for medical back-up while ducking low and scanning the vicinity for the sniper. If the criminal knew any better, he would be gone by now, or on his way out. Bruce knew they wouldn't try to target his head next — his cowl was too well-reinforced for any common bullet to penetrate.

So he turned his attention to his son.

His oldest, most loyal, strongest comrade. His partner.

His fingers automatically felt for a pulse in the young man's carotid, and when he didn't find one, he began CPR immediately. Bruce pretended that his heart didn't almost stop when the pulse finally returned, didn't admit that he nearly cried out in relief when the person in his arms didn't turn out to be a body.

By the time he had revived Nightwing, medical back-up had arrived. He stepped back to let the paramedics do their thing, only intersecting momentarily to tell them that they would be going to Gotham's Free Clinic (Leslie. He needed to get his son to Leslie.) instead of Gotham General. If there were any objections from the medical team, they were silenced once they glanced up and saw the look on Batman's face.

He didn't follow the medical evac down. Commissioner Gordon was going with them. He trusts the man enough to know that they would end up in the right place. He had to trust that they would deliver his son to the right place.

Right now, though, the gun was still smoking and he had a sniper to go after.

No one went after his family like this and got away with it.

No one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading that issue, I had to write this, so I literally speed-wrote this in 15 minutes. 
> 
> Also, do let me know if I should continue with this! I was thinking about adding a few more parts with regards to the reactions of the other Batfamily members?
> 
> Edit: my tenses were all over the place in this drabble good Lord. I have changed them and hopefully now it's ok. Also, I added a spoiler alert after some feedback from one of my commenters. Thank you for reading!!


	2. in the fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all intents and purposes of this fic, I am diverging from canon and having all members of the Batfamily be alive and kicking for my story. Because I like everyone and I don't want anyone to be left out of anything. So yes, this fic does not fit into canon from here on out. Don't kill me.

A call got through in at 2a.m., and somehow, it was not Alfred that picked up.  
  
"Hello?" A smooth voice replied, and Leslie knew that it belonged to the one and only Timothy Drake-Wayne.  
  
"Red Robin, hi, this is Leslie. Is Agent A at home?"  
  
"He has just gone up to do a final parameter check about the house. Why, do you need to speak to him?"  
  
"I—" her voice caught in her throat, and she didn't know how to continue. She would much prefer to talk to Alfred, the man always knew what to say, no matter the situation. And she didn't want to be the one to break it to the young man that his brother was now undergoing life-saving surgery and could possibly die before he even left the table.  
  
"Wait, he's back. Give me a second..."  
  
The line clicked as Tim put her on hold. Moments later, someone else answered.  
  
"Leslie. Tim said you were asking for me?"  
  
"Oh, thank God. I need you to come down to the clinic as soon as possible. We have a bit of a situation on hand."  
  
"What is the matter."  
  
"Nightwing was shot. Just over an hour ago."  
  
There was stale silence. Then the butler cleared his throat and asked, sounding as steady as ever.  
  
"Nightwing?"  
  
"Yes, Nightwing." She emphasised on the word, praying that Alfred caught her hint. It was a secure line, but she didn't want to explain too much, in case someone overheard.  
  
"I see. Is he with you now?"  
  
"He is in surgery. It will probably take a few hours more but he will need intensive care after this. My clinic can't handle his case."  
  
"May I ask why? Where was he shot?"  
  
"He was shot in the head, Agent A."  
  
Silence.  
  
"He can't stay here at the clinic, we don't have the capacity to care for him."  
  
"Understood. Is there anything else you need from us?"  
  
"A change of clothes, perhaps?" And a good cover story, she had implied. But she needn't worry, Alfred probably understood what she meant.  
  
"We will be down in 10 minutes. Thank you for informing us."  
  
"No problem. See you in 10."  
  
~  
  
Alfred was always afraid a day like this would come.  
  
As he sped through the empty roads of the city, he pondered on the fragility of it all. Between Master Bruce's nightly crusades and the inheritance he had doled out to his many sons, Alfred always feared a day would come when they would lose one of them forever.  
  
Today could very well be that day.  
  
The car was silent. There was no usual banter to be heard, not when Master Richard was not around. Alfred could see Master Timothy staring listlessly out of the front-seat window and Damian and Cassandra were both using their mobile phones at the back.  
  
"So what's the cover?" The older boy asked at last, expression unreadable.  
  
"Master Richard was shot in a mugging down 5th avenue while on his way home from a meeting with friends. The bullet hit him in the head and a kind passerby drove him to the free clinic. He was unconscious when they arrived."  
  
"Who else was on the scene of the shooting, do you know?"  
  
"I am unclear on the details. We will have to check with Leslie when we arrive, then we can plan from there."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"We're here." Damian noted, as Alfred pulled into the driveway of the clinic. The parking lot was largely empty, save for one ambulance and two other vehicles.  
  
The group exited the vehicle and made a beeline for the main office of the clinic. At this point, the rain was still coming down hard on everyone, but no one wanted to waste time getting an umbrella so they all just ran.  
  
"Hi, how may I help you?" The receptionist smiled at them when they arrived at the front desk, all slightly wet from their encounter with the weather.  
  
"We are looking for Leslie, Leslie Thompson," Cassandra said, walking up to the desk, "Is she in?"  
  
"Over here!" They spun around collectively to see the good doctor rushing up towards them. When she reached them, Leslie embraced Alfred and Cassandra, and looked at the rest in the eye.  
  
"This way."  
  
She led them down the hallway, all the while talking to Alfred about the situation.  
  
"It's quite messy now. We managed to remove the bullet from his brain, luckily it was a clean entry wound through and through, and it didn't bounce around in his skull. We suspect it was because it was a long range shot from a sniper, which is why it was so minimal. We don't have the proper scanning equipment to fully assess the damage, though, we need to get him to Gotham General for an MRI asap."  
  
"Who else was on the roof when he was shot?"  
  
"Just Batman and Jim Gordon. The paramedics they called dropped him off and left. They didn't know how they were supposed to triage a mask, so I asked them to leave and I said I would handle it."  
  
She led them into her private office. Cassandra shut the door behind her and locked it.  
  
"Now we need to discuss what is our plan of action." Leslie sat down at her table and steeped her fingers together. The rest of the family scattered themselves around the room, with Alfred sitting on the chair closest to Leslie's table.  
  
"Is his mask still on?" Piped Damian, "or was it removed in the procedure?"  
  
"We left it in, for the sake of preserving his identity. None of my staff know who he is."  
  
"Then it's easy. We change him out into a gown, Damian and I will go dirty up the clothes accordingly, and Leslie, you can call in another ambulance to send him to the hospital." Tim offered.  
  
"Yes, how will we explain how he got here in the first place? And what will we do when the police comes knocking? There can't be too many people who have a GSW to the head tonight, can there?"  
  
"The cover story is that Master Richard got mugged and shot in the head by his mugger and was brought by a good Samaritan to your clinic. We need not take him to Gotham General, where I am sure his presence will attract much unneeded speculation. What I suggest is we transfer him to All Saints Memorial Hospital, it's a bit longer of a drive, but they have good security and we would invite less attention there." Alfred interjected, " the paramedics tonight came from Gotham General, am I right?"  
  
"Yes." Leslie replied, nodding.  
  
"Then All Saints would be a good option. Great thinking, Alf." Tim said, rising to his feet. At the nickname, Alfred felt his heart twist slightly. It was a nickname that Richard had affectionately given him, many years ago. It always made him think of the young man he had helped raised when someone called him that.

"How is he? Is Grayson ok?" Damian spoke up for the first time that evening. Alfred looked over and realised his phone was now stowed away in his back pocket, and he was staring at Leslie with a hard, intense look in his eye.  
  
"He's... He needs more help than I can give him, Damian." Leslie says, deflating a little. "We lost him twice on the table, and from what I heard from the paramedics, Batman had to resuscitate him on site. Things... don't look good. I can't say more until I have a good scan of his brain and see the damage that has been done."  
  
Damian pursed his lips fiercely.  
  
"You will be able to fix him, right?"  
  
"I don't know." The woman admitted, not looking away from the 13-year-old's gaze. "But trust me, I am going to try my damnest to keep him here, with us."  
  
"That's sounds good enough for me." Muttered Tim straightened up, and looked at his younger brother. They have not broken out into a quarrel yet, which Alfred counted as a win.  
  
"Are you and Damian going to handle the clothes now?" Cass asked.  
  
"Yes—"  
  
"I won't be coming. I wish to follow Grayson to the hospital in the ambulance." Damian interjected, glancing sharply to his sibling. Tim sighed and was about to retort when Cassandra laid a hand on his arm.  
  
"I will come with you. I'm more creative with these sorts of of jobs anyway. Besides, we need to wait for Steph, she's on her way over to the clinic."  
  
"Steph's done with patrol?"  
  
Cass nodded. "I was just texting her. She just arrived back at the manor and was wondering where everyone was. She said she would drive over, so Alfred, you can take the car."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Cassandra."  
  
"Are we ready to go now?" Leslie's hand was on the phone, poised to call for the ambulance.  
  
Alfred nodded. "I believe we are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally find this chapter a little lacking as compared to the starting chapter, mainly because it was more purposeful and less fueled by sheer inspiration haha. But oh well, what can you do.
> 
> Do let me know what you thought of this! And thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter and asked for more of this fic! I hope this satisfies your cravings for some Dick whump :)


	3. through the grapevine

Batman couldn't believe he could not track down this sniper.

So far, he had plotted the trajectory of the shot to a building, and he had examined it thoroughly, finding nothing but a single empty shell as well as a dead body in the wake of the sniper. This told him a lot about the perpetrator. Firstly, it was a targeted move. They had intentionally been lying in wait for Nightwing, and the shot was hardly a stray one. Considering where it hit as well, Batman recalled with a pang, this perp was no amateur shot.

Next, they were probably alone, which would explain the neatness of the crime scene and how efficiently they came and left.

Third, it was unlikely he had a personal vendetta against Nightwing. There were no signs of overkill, no emotionality in the hit. Everything was cut and dry, and clinical almost.

Fourth, the bullets the man used were unique, possibly traceable. He was surprised to see that they were vest-piercers, meaning that these were specialized bullets designed to take down even police personnel wearing Kevlar. He could have easily shot and incapacitated Batman. Why did he go for Nightwing, who had a bare head, with such distinct bullets? Why was he shooting at Nightwing? Why hadn't he shot Batman, or Commissioner Gordon for that matter?

As Batman swept out of the building after a thorough investigation, he found that he was left with more questions than answers. It was not a feeling he was comfortable with.

Letting out a low growl, he continued on his way, making his mind up about where he was going to go now.

Next stop, Crime Alley.

~

The ride to the hospital was quiet. Damian didn't know what else he was expecting. Grayson wasn't awake to give his usual quips, so there was no banter to go around the ambulance.

To be honest, Grayson didn't look like anything was wrong with him. Apart from the heavy bandaging around his head, he looked fine. A little on the pale side, probably from the blood loss, but Dr. Thompkins said that he had 2 transfusions already, so his blood levels were probably on their way back up.

Damian didn't know what to do in the ambulance. Apart from him, there was a paramedic who was presently busy filling out a chart. So Damian settled for holding his older brother's hand. It was a blatant display of affection and feeling, and Damian disliked it, but it made him feel less useless. Made him feel like he was at least doing something.

Besides, knowing how tactile Dick was, he figured the man would probably like him to hold his hand. Hell, maybe the man would even wake up if he felt Damian holding his hand.

But it did not happen. Grayson did not wake.

His hand was smaller in Grayson's. He found that he quite disliked that. The man's hand was rough and calloused from his work on the parallel bars and every other gymnastic equipment in the Batcave, and was not the best thing to hold. Damian wondered how Gordon put up with it.

Speaking of which, no one had gotten around to calling his brother's girlfriend. She would flip if she knew what was going on, without her knowledge.

With one hand, he tugged out his phone and fired a short message to her. Then Todd for measure. Although he doubted the latter would be interested in such a family affair.

_‘Grayson got shot. We are on the way to the hospital now.’_

Within seconds, he got a reply from Gordon.

_‘Which hospital’_

No punctuation. She must be gathering her things as he typed his answer.

_‘ASMH.’_

_‘Otw’_

Short form _and_ no punctuation. Damian wasn't great at reading people but if anything, her anxiety was palpable.

He released his grip on Grayson when the ambulance slowed to a halt and the driver and Dr. Thompkins got out of the car to open the back door. He exited the vehicle and let the gurney pass him. His gaze followed it as it went into the emergency department, eyes never leaving the figure of his brother on the bed.

If you die, Grayson, I swear—

The emotionality of the statement that popped up in his head overwhelmed him for a beat and he ducked his head, pursing his lips. Just at that moment, Alfred appeared by his side.

"They've gone in?" The elder man asked as a way of a greeting.

He nodded, not wanting to speak.

"Then let's be on our way." He felt the butler's palm on his back as the man guided them both into the lobby of the hospital. There was not much for them to do but wait for the the tests to be done and the others to arrive.

Then something occurred to Damian and he turned to Pennyworth.

"Where is Father?"

Pennyworth's gaze hardened. "I would presume he is in pursuit of the perpetrator of tonight's events. Have you contacted him?"

"No. We should call and let him know that we have moved Grayson."

"Yes, we should. Why not you drop him a call? I will see if I can catch a hold of Dr. Thompkins and see how long Master Richard will be."

Damian nodded and turned to his phone again, dialling Father's private line. He counted the rings, and at the 20th ring, the line was cut and the call ended. Father must be busy.

Just seconds after his line to Father got cut, his phone pinged to let him know he had a new message. It was from Todd and it contained just one word.

_'Who?'_

Now wasn't that the million-dollar question. Damian closed the message. He would respond later. For now, he had a mission to locate Father. The next call ended the same way, so Damian decided to send the man a curt but succinct message.

_'Father, Grayson has been moved to ASMH. We are waiting for his test results.'_

Just then, the PA system of the hospital crackled to life.

"Code blue, code blue. All active medical staff to the MRI suite, General Wing." The announcement repeated itself twice over, and in that time, Damian saw several staff hurry past him. His blood froze in his veins. Didn't Leslie say that they needed to take Grayson for an MRI?

He tailed the nearest doctor as she hurried past him, following her as she went. She led him down several corridors and finally to a corner of the wing they were in where there was a room with its door thrown wide open. That room was the centre of a hive of activity.

As Damian moved closer, he could distinctly pick out Dr. Thompkins's sharp tone. Pennyworth was nowhere to be seen so Damian assumed that he had probably just located Dr. Thompkins before the man did.

"Nurse, we need to intubate him, now!"

Damian moved closer to the door, narrowly missing a nurse who had just dashed out of the room, probably in search for the intubation equipment. He inched towards the door of the room, placing a slightly trembling hand on the door frame.

The room was in a frenzy, bustling with staff that were all working to resuscitate the patient, but all Damian saw was the body of his eldest brother on a gurney, being administered CPR by a white coat. The heart monitor was reading a flatline, which meant his brother... Grayson...

"It's not working," the doctor who was administering CPR cried, "paddles!"

A nurse rushed over with the defibrillator apparatus. The doctor tried unsuccessfully to restart his brother's heart once, but on the second try, a rhythm returned. The whole room seemed to heave a sigh of relief.

"Now let's get him on a tube and to a room." Ordered Dr. Thompkins, clearly still acting as Grayson’s presiding physician despite the change in setting.

"But we are not done with the scans—" a physician at the side interjected. For some reason, a surge of anger rushed through Damian. His brother almost died, and this man was worried about some scans?!

Luckily, Dr. Thompkins was on the same page as him, and rounded up on that doctor that protested.

"We have enough to go on, I said. What we need to do now is to get the patient stablized so he doesn't flatline on us every 30 minutes, am I understood?"

Dr. Thompkins could be real terror once she put her mind to it. Now Damian was beginning to understand why Father always yielded to her judgement.

He walked into the room, pushing past all the medical personnel and went up to Dr. Thompkins, careful to stay away from the working staff. He tugged on her sleeve.

She looked away from the doctor she was glaring at and looked astonished to see him.

"Damian! What are you doing here?"

"I heard the alarm and followed people here. Are you moving Grayson to a room now?"

"Yes, we are."

"Now look here, Dr. Thompkins, we need more scans, if not we cannot determine—" the doctor was cut off by Leslie whirling around and jabbing a finger into his broad chest.

"No, you look here. This man is critical and he is unstable. We need to stabilize him before we lose him again. We can't afford to defilbrillate him every half hour, his heart won't be able to handle it."

Before the man could respond, Dr. Thompkins turned to the nurses, "Move him to the room and intubate him. I need to deal with his family."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"C'mon Damian, let's get you out of here." Damian caught one last look at Grayson before Dr. Thompkins steered him clear out of the room and shut the door behind them.

~

"I ain't got nuthin' on 'im, honest, man!" The thug below his fist cried out as he pressed into the headlock. "Jus' heard he got shot tonight by some sniper or sumthin' but I ain't got nuthin', I swear."

If it was taking this long for the criminal to eke out an answer for him, Jason thought, he may be telling the truth.

No matter, there were other rats he could fish information from anyway. This one was dispensible.

As the grovelling idiot slipped out of his now loose grasp and struggled to run away, Jason's hand fell to his gun, and he wondered for a quick moment if he should shoot the messenger. But a voice in his head, that sounded annoyingly like a certain annoying blue bird's, chimed in, saying that there was no real need to murder the bottom-feeder, as repulsive as he was.

Oh well. He wasn't in the mood for killing anyway.

It was strange though, you would think that hearing any of his surrogate siblings get hurt would make him even more vengeful than usual, make his interrogations more bloody than Red Hood is usually known for, but more often than not, the news often got him in a bit if a hung up mood, made him less violent than usual.

Which was weird. Jason didn't like being in a mood. He liked it bloody and fast. Being in a mood did not help his efficiency, nor his rep.

Now he kind of wished Roy was around to get him back into the swing of things, but the man's off tonight, gallivanting somewhere with Kory as per whatever they do on their nights off. Who knew what they were up to? It was supposed to be Jason's night off as well, but instead of chilling and playing a few rounds of _GTA V_ he was stuck here interrogating vermin.

Stupid Dickhead. Why did he had to go get shot, he grumbled.

He wanted to check in and see how the man was doing. He didn't even know where the dude got shot but knowing the idiot, he was probably up in bed already, annoying the hell out of everyone. That was what he usually did when he's injured.

Maybe he should go by Leslie's, see if there was anything he could pick up on.

Yeah. Maybe he will.

Shrugging to himself, he shot out a line into the nearby building and propelled himself in the direction of the free clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tad short, but we finally get to see Jason's reaction to the situation! Don't worry, things get a bit more heavy from here on out, so get ready for the angst
> 
> Please do let me know what you think of this fic! Also, you can find me on [tumblr](http://the-superhero-rush.tumblr.com/), feel free to send me any prompts or messages on there! :)


	4. come one, come all

Tim had just bagged the soiled clothes when Cassandra made a noise.  
  
The next moment, there was a heavy thump of someone landing behind him, and he spun around immediately.   
  
"Steph?"  
  
"Wrong, idiot." Red Hood stepped out of the shadows, his hood obscuring his face. Knowing Jason, it was probably hiding a sneer -- Tim could practically hear it in the man's voice.  
  
"What do you want, Red Hood?"  
  
"What, a man can't just drop on his little brother and sister once in a while?"   
  
"Sisters." Chimed a voice from the fire escape above them, and a figure dropped down to meet them in the alley. It was Stephanie this time, dressed in civvies, and she had a half smirk on her face as she glanced at Jason.  
  
"Hey, Nutcase."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, call me whatever. You know it hardly bothers me, spoilt milk."   
  
"Ooh, reciprocating insults. Someone's in a touchy mood tonight." Retorted the girl as she moved towards Cass and wrapped a arm around the latter's shoulders.   
  
"What are you doing here, Red Hood?" Said Tim. He didn't want to draw his weapons, but if Jason was going to get confrontational... His hand wandered to his bo staff that he'd concealed under his hoodie.  
  
Jason must have noticed him moving, because the man clicked his tongue.   
  
"No need to get all defensive, Replacement. I come in peace. Just wanna know what's up with the fam tonight."  
  
"Nothing's up. Now will you leave us alone?"  
  
"No, no, Replacement. I'm not dumb. I know something's going on."  
  
"Then what is it."  
  
Jason paused, then deadpanned, "Heard Big Bird got shot."  
  
"So? Why does it matter to you?"  
  
"How did you know Dick was shot? Did you hear it from some street rat?" Cassandra cut in.   
  
"Nope." Red Hood patted his back pocket, "the little birdie told me."  
  
"Damian. Damian messaged you?" Tim couldn't help but sound incredulous. Damian rarely ever messaged any of them. How did he even have Jason's number?  
  
The older man shrugged.   
  
"From the looks of things, it seems like Dickhead was shot on the job, but now that we are all in such comfortable attire..." the man reached up and removed his helmet, and tugged off his domino mask, "there. Am I qualified enough to join your civvies club now?"  
  
"What do you want, Jason?" Stephanie echoed Tim, eyes narrowing.   
  
The man lifted his hands in mock surrender, "Can't a man show concern for an injured sibling? I want in on visitations with the 'wing."  
  
"What use will it be? What are you getting at here, Jase?"  
  
"I want to know who did it, and I need to talk to Dickhead to see who did it."   
  
"Dick can't talk right now." Chimed in Stephanie. Tim cast a glance back at her and saw that she was checking her phone.  
  
"He can't be up and back out here already right? The rusty ol' Bat would never allow it." Retorted the man, " C'mon, let me at him, for just 5 minutes."  
  
"We can't." Cassandra reaffirmed.  
  
"Don't go all protective bat-siblings on me now, Batgal, I have as much right to see Dick as any of you idiots have."  
  
"No, you idiot, we mean Dick literally can't talk right now."  
  
The man paused, staring at each of them in turn.  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"She means," Cassandra said. Her phone is out as well. They must have received a mass message that Tim had not seen because he had yet to check his phone. "Damian has just sent us a message letting us know that Dick is comatose and not responding to any stimuli."   
  
There is a beat of silence as Cassandra shut off her phone and fixed her older brother with a glare.   
  
"There, satisfied?"  
  
After a long pause, Jason finally said, his question phrased more like a statement than anything else.  
  
"How many times and where."  
  
"He was shot once and it was in the head." Tim intoned grimly, "by a sniper on the roof of GCPD."  
  
Jason didn't respond. Then, he replaced his Domino mask and his helmet, and turned away.   
  
"Are you leaving? I thought you wanted to see Dick?" Shouted Stephanie after his retreating back as he disappeared into the shadows.   
  
There was a sound of a line being shot out, and then the man was gone.   
  
"Guess not." Snorted Steph. Tim turned to her now, concern etched on his face.  
  
"It's true?"  
  
"What's true?"  
  
"Dick."   
  
"Oh." The girl's expression turned somber. "Yeah."   
  
She turned the phone screen to face him, so he could read the stub that Damian sent her. There was no point checking his own phone, it probably contained the same information.  
  
Tim bit his lip. He never expected it to come to this. Sure, they've all been shot once or twice, but never in the head. And this wasn't the first time Dick got hit in the head, it has happened before.   
  
Damn was that guy unlucky.  
  
"C'mon, they're probably waiting for us at All Saints." He felt himself say mechanically, "Did you bring a car?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
He hoisted the bag of soiled clothing over his shoulder and gave both his sisters a look. They returned his grim expression.   
  
"Then let's go."  
  
~  
  
The hospital room was quiet, with the exception of the whirring machines that Damian knew were keeping Grayson alive.   
  
But as it was, the man was barely alive. Not responding to anything, Dr. Thompkins had said, and declining steadily. He was not responding to treatment and they didn't know why.  
  
Father should be here. He was needed here.  
  
So far, Damian had only gotten replies from Brown, letting him know that her, Cain, and Drake were en route. He had taken on the role of a messenger or sorts, unknowingly, as Alfred was out communicating with Dr. Thompkins. He messaged the room number to all the family members involved, as much as he felt that it was weird to refer go this ragtag group as a family. But that's why Grayson always insisted they were, so there had to be some truth in there, hadn't there?  
  
Hadn't there?  
  
He hung up the phone after being given the dial tone from Father's phone for the millionth time. He wasn't being over dramatic. Father needed to be here. He needed to come around and help Grayson wake up. The perp was long gone, and that could wait. His Batman was comatose, for crying out loud. He needed Grayson to wake the fuck up.  
  
There he said it. He never did stop seeing Grayson as anything less than his mentor, even after he gave up the cowl and returned to being Nightwing. He always instinctively turned to Grayson for advice first, and God knows how many times he had glanced at Grayson first whenever someone mentioned Batman, before looking to his father. He knew it wasn't right, but it was how he felt anyway. And like Grayson always taught him, his feelings were as valid as anyone else's.  
  
Which is why Grayson needed to wake up. The man couldn't be in a coma, he needed him to be awake and teach him important things, things that Father neglected to teach him or refused to see as important. Things like feelings.  
  
Pennyworth was seated beside Grayson's bed, head bowed over the man's hand which was clasped in his own. Probably praying over the man, even though Grayson could hardly be bothered with God most of the time. He remembered when Pennyworth tried to get him and Grayson to go to church with him, and Grayson had politely declined, citing that he was agnostic and Damian, well, Damian was raised Muslim so that counted for something, sometimes.  
  
He was about to leave the room to run the parameter of the hospital and see if he could get his Father on the line again when Gordon burst into the room. How she knew which room and ward they were in, he didn't know, but Gordon being Gordon, she probably hacked the system and found out.  
  
She looked slightly frazzled and her eyes zeroed in on Grayson immediately. Grayson with his tight ring of bandages around his partially shaved head, and with a massive tube down his throat. He must have looked a sight to the woman.   
  
"Dick," she breathed and went over to the bed immediately, not acknowledging Damian, who was standing in the corner of the room like a sentinel.  
  
Pennyworth moved aside as the Gordon went up to the bed. She smoothed the remainder of Grayson's hair out of his face and kissed him tenderly on his forehead, an action that was so intimate, Damian felt like he should have looked away.  
  
"Miss Gordon. It is nice to see you again."   
  
"Same to you, Alfred." She turned to the older man, fixing him with a sharp look.  
  
"How is he?"   
  
"I'm afraid we have not much good news. He is in a coma and his condition has been fluctuating badly. Dr Thompkins has been unsuccessful in stabilising him, and his condition is slowly deteriorating."  
  
Gordon didn't say a word, but instead turned back to the man she loved. The heart monitor beeped resolutely in the background, along with the meek sounds of the other medical paraphernalia.  
  
Damian felt his fist tighten slightly. He didn't know what to do. His brother, his mentor was dying, and he didn't know what to do.  
  
There was a lull in the conversation, then Pennyworth cleared his throat.  
  
"Would you like a cup of coffee?"  
  
The woman straightened up and turned to the butler. "That would be fantastic."  
  
"How about you, Master Damian?"   
  
"I do not require caffeine, Pennyworth."  
  
"I will be back in a while. In the meantime, Master Damian, do continue to strive to get a hold of your Father. He should be here when Dr Thompkins returns with Master Richard's results."  
  
And to watch his son die. He finished the sentence inside his head. It was true then, if Pennyworth was so insistent on getting his father here straightaway. Richard was dying.   
  
A chill settled in his bones.  
  
As Pennyworth departed, Damian tried both Father's phone line and Batman's communication line, but to no avail.   
  
He hung up after his futile attempts.  
  
"He's not answering, is he?" Gordon spoke up, her eyes never leaving Grayson's face. Her hand was fastened to his and she was gently caressing his face, running a light finger along his jaw, as if her touch would wake him up. Damian suppressed the urge to remind her rudely (and spitefully) that Grayson was comatose and would not respond to any of her ministrations.   
  
"No. He seems to have switched off his line."  
  
"Have you tried using your emergency beacon?"  
  
"My emergency beacon?" Damian ran through the schematics of his suit and remembered distinctly being briefed about the emergency functions of it. Father had the emergency beacon function built into both his and Red Robin's suits after Todd's incident so many years back. They were only supposed to use it in an emergency, hence the name.  
  
"I don't have my suit with me now." He said, a little dumbly. It was true.   
  
"But you can still activate it. It will make him come." Gordon turned to him and beckoned. Damian came forward. She took his phone from him and released Grayson's hand.   
  
As she tapped away, Damian was suddenly acutely aware of how close he was to Grayson. The distance made the reality of the situation more stark, and Damian could feel himself trembling. To steady himself, he slowly sidled onto the edge of the bed and sat down, for he didn't know how much longer his legs could hold him. Slowly, as Gordon was distracted by the phone, he slipped his hand into his brother's once more. The contact made him feel slightly better, but Richard's hands were cold. It just felt so ultimate, activating an emergency beacon. Like Richard was dead already.   
  
"There, it's activated." She passed his phone back to him and he slipped it back into his pocket with one hand. She glanced at his hand, which clasped Grayson's, but didn't say anything. Her eyes turned back to her boyfriend's smooth face, lingering there for a moment before she heaved a sigh and pulled up a chair. Damian slipped his hand out of his brother's and picked at a chipped nail on the man's hand.  
  
Finally, he said, voice bare and thin in the quiet of the room.  
  
"So, what do we do now?"  
  
"Now?" Gordon placed a hand on the unconscious man's forearm, gripping it tightly.  
  
"Now, we wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get back to where Tim, Cassandra, and Stephanie are. With a little bit of Jason sprinkled inside. I have trouble keeping track of all the batfamily, there is just so many of them. Bruce, why do you keep taking in children.
> 
> Please do let me know what you think of this fic! Also, you can find me on [tumblr](http://the-superhero-rush.tumblr.com/), feel free to send me any prompts or messages on there! :)


	5. on the brink of tomorrow

Batman was in the middle of beating up another thug when something in his belt beeped urgently. What the hell, didn't he shut off his communication devices? He needed to focus on getting this guy.

Who was contacting him?

He shot out a grapple line and went up to the nearest rooftop to regroup. Fishing the offending communicator out of his pocket, his heart gave a swoop when he saw what had been activated.

Robin's emergency beacon.

All of the sudden, Batman became Bruce Wayne, and an edge of panic overtook him as he turned on the communicator to see what was really going on. Robin didn't go out for patrol tonight, it was just supposed to be Nightwing and Batman on the main grid of Gotham and Spoiler the docks. She couldn't have run into any trouble, could she? Their family has been shocked with enough tragedy tonight.

His communicator told him he had 30 missed calls from Damian, and a few from Alfred. They probably already knew the situation, so why were they calling him? Didn't they know he had a trail to follow, a criminal to catch?

He dialled Damian's private number. Within a few rings, the boy picked up.

"What is it?" He barked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"Father." His son responded primly, "Did you receive the emergency call?"

"Yes, of course I did. Now explain."

"Grayson's condition, Father. It is worsening." he cut straight to the chase. "You should be here.”

"Is Leslie with him?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you calling me?"

The boy paused, then continued, sounding confused.

"Grayson—"

"I know he's receiving treatment. Why have you activated the emergency beacon just to inform me of this?"

"Because..." in the background, he heard someone someone ask Damian who it was he had on the phone. When the boy responded that it was Bruce, someone immediately took the phone from him.

"Hello? Is this Bruce?"

Leslie. Bruce huffed a breath.

"Leslie, yes, what is the matter—"

"I need you to stop whatever rubbish you are up to and get your ass to All Saints Memorial right this moment. And I mean now, young man."

"I don't understand—"

"Well, understand this. Your son is dying, for God's sake, Bruce. And he will most definitely die if his medical proxy won't stop beating up random people and get himself to this hospital right away. I need you to be here to make some decisions that Dick is unfortunately unable to make by himself because he was shot in the goddamn head earlier this evening."

"I—"

"Ten minutes! I expect you to be here."

With a click, the irate woman hung up.

Then it clicked. What she said. What Damian said.

_Grayson's condition... is worsening._

_Your son is dying..._

_Dying._

She said Dick was...

He needed to get to the hospital, now.

~

Drifting. He was floating in a sea of nothingness.

Where was he?

He didn't know.

He couldn't bring himself to care.

Somewhere, there were voices.

_... Need to take him in for surgery..._

_... Can we risk it?_

_If we want him to live..._

Who were they talking about? Were they talking about him? Who...

Who. That's the thing. He can't seem to remember...

Who...

Who was he?

~

Bruce arrived on the dot at 3.30a.m., looking flustered a navy blue jumper and jeans. He must have changed out of his suit in one of his safe-houses and got here once he received the earful from Leslie.

Barbara stood as he entered the lobby, and he made a beeline for her straightaway.

"Where is he." The question came out like a harsh statement. What Leslie said must have really gotten through to him.

"He's in the ICU. They need you to make some decisions... They said something about surgery—"

The man brushed past her and they made their way to the intensive care ward. When they arrived at the ward, everyone was already there, even Tim, Steph, and Cass. They were all standing outside Dick's ICU room, which had a glass wall instead of a standard solid one so at any point in time, anybody could look into the room and survey the situation. At this moment, there was only one person in the room with Dick, and it was Damian, who was sitting by the bed, holding Dick's hand gingerly.

"Leslie." The woman looked up from her charts, face weary and worn. She looked like she had aged a few years in a matter of hours.

"Oh, thank God you're here. They wouldn't let me take him into surgery without a medical proxy. They won't let me do anything without your permission."

"It's protocol." Bruce said in a smooth voice. Barbara didn't know how he could be so calm when Dick was… Dick was…

"What's the situation?"

"He's bleeding internally, Bruce. That's what the situation is. Here, I'll explain, then I need you to meet some people and we need to get him into surgery, pronto—" the woman grabbed Bruce by the arm and led him away, around the nurse's counter and back out of the ward, while the rest of the family stood outside Dick's room.

"What's this about Dick bleeding internally, Alfred?" asked Cass. Barbara almost forgot — the three young people only arrived after Leslie came in to give them the rundown of Dick's condition, after which they had been reeling from the severity of it that it seemed that the information had not gotten relayed.

"Dr Thompkins has looked over Master Dick's MRI scans, Miss Cassandra, and there was a lot more damage than previously suspected." summarized Alfred, looking grim. They all cast a look into the room just beyond them, watching as Damian turned Dick's fingers over and over in his hands.

"He's in a bad way." followed up Barbara. "They are saying that there is severe vascular bleeding in the central part of his brain, his primary motor cortex is also damaged. They don't know how his motor capacities will be like when he wakes. Or if he will even wake."

"But he's in an induced coma now, isn't he? Once they take him off the drugs he should wake, right?" Stephanie interjected, face pinched and worried. Tim shook his head and spoke up, softly.

"Not if the damage is too severe. He may never wake again, even after they stop the drugs. As it stands, Leslie said that there is no pupil dilation, no response right? That lessens the chance of him coming out of the coma."

Alfred glanced away, back at the prone figure on the bed while the girls paled. Barbara was sure this was the same expression she had on her face when Leslie told them this. At that time, Damian had just gone mute and taken his brother's hand again, gripping it tightly as if willing the older man to wake up. It was a new pattern of behaviour for the younger boy, who always avoided contact of any sort with anyone. Guess desperate times called for desperate measures, or behaviours in Damian's case.

Barbara longed to re-enter the room, grip Dick and shake him awake. She longed to see those brilliant blue eyes of his, hear his laughter. Things she only appreciated when they were gone. She wanted her boyfriend back. It wasn't supposed to be like this, they were supposed to get together, get married, have kids, and grow old together. Dick wasn't supposed to be this injured after a simple night of patrol. He wasn't even meant to be on patrol, it was date-night. He had meant to skip out on patrol and meet up with her for a movie, but Bruce had called in about some mummy king and Dick had gone in to help. They had cancelled the movie and decided to settle for a screening in the privacy of Dick's apartment instead. That was where Barbara was waiting when she got the call.

She pushed past the group and re-entered the room. Damian looked up when she entered. Immediately, his hand shot back and he backed away to the edge of the bed, sitting next to Dick's feet. She took the seat beside the bed and took up the man's hand. It was cold, even with all the hand-holding Damian was doing. That was the thing about Dick, his body was always like a heater, but his hands and feet were always as cold as ice. It always made cuddling with him in bed... interesting, to say the least. He always tried to tickle her with his ice-cubes-for-fingers.

It seemed so benign then, but now it scared her. It made it feel like he was... dead.

He couldn't die. She didn't know what they would do without him. She didn't know what she would do without him. The world would be empty.

She felt terrible as she thought about all of this now. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Everything that was seemed to have happened ages ago, and it felt like none of it would be possible again. Felt like nothing would be the same again.

None of it was supposed to be like this.  
  
~

Tim was afraid.

This fear was foreign to him. He didn't feel this when he pitched himself off the highest building in Gotham. He didn't feel this when riding into battle with alien beings from another planet. He knew why, it was because in all those instances, he had a safety net. He had backup, he had a grappling line to catch him if he fell.

In this situation, anything could go. Dick's condition could decide it wanted to veer off the highway of recovery and take a turn for the worse. Dick could haemorrhage so severely in surgery, that they won't be able to save him. He could suddenly have a seizure and he could possibly never wake from his coma.

So yes, Tim was afraid. He was terrified.

He didn't know what to do as they waited in the room for Dick to come out of the operating theatre. He didn't bring his laptop — in their frenzy to leave the house, he'd left it behind. Now he didn't even have cold cases to occupy him as he sat in the cushy chair, waiting. Looking over to Damian, who was curled up on one of the couches, fast asleep and leaning against Bruce, Tim felt an ache in him. He wanted to sleep too, sleep away the situation, sleep away the horrid thoughts that plagued him about Dick's condition.

Barbara had gotten up a while ago to drop a call to her father. It was now close to 5am, and Dick was not due for another few hours. The doctors said there was a lot of damage to fix, vascular swelling and internal bleeding.

A voice whispered in his ear, cruel and small.

_He won't make it. He's going to die._

He almost shook his head to dispel the thoughts. No, he couldn't think of this. He would jinx things for everyone. Not that he believed in superstitions such as this, but in their line of work... best not take the risk.

All he wanted was for Dick to come out of it like he always did. Dick always pulled through for family, and this situation was no different. He will pull through. He had to.

Dick had always been the pillar of their little ragtag family. He was the person you went to when you needed help with anything, he was the one who had the answer for you when you were struggling with your team and didn't know how to get them to get along. He was the one who led them strongly into battle, and he was the one you expected to always be there. He was the glue. They couldn't lose him. Not him too, not after all the things they have already lost.

The situation seemed more severe in his head the more he thought about it. He didn't want to think about it anymore, he just needed Dick to be whole and well again.

Was that too much to ask for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't manage to post this up sooner. I've been struggling with school work and putting off writing for the moment. Don't worry, we're going to bring Dick out of his coma soon, so there's that to look forward to I guess? 
> 
> Right now, I'm not too sure how I plan to end this fic... on one hand, I really think it would be easier to end it with Dick not knowing who he is, on the other, there's a part of me that wants to take it further and follow him into recovery, just a for a bit. But I don't really have the capacity to write on the fly, as I have been doing with this fic, and I honestly feel like the quality of things have dipped over the past few chapters. I don't know if I can keep it up, and I don't want to produce a bad fic either, if you know what I mean? I feel like my writing has gotten progressively worse... or is it just me? Haha T-T Someone save me from this dilemma.


End file.
